Frustration
by TraceZBullet
Summary: This is a little drabble I came up with...Inspired by last week's ending. Sweets misses out on more than anyone bargained for... Rating for smutty smut and proud of it


**a/n**: **this was written as a gift for a friend (I 3 you mic!) and I decided to publish it solely because I haven't published (or written!) any fanfic in for-freakin-ever. Please send reviews...it's in kind of a weird tense for me. I never do 1st POV or as if it was written to someone else...I don't even know. My first Bones, I think? Thanks for reading!**

**Frustration**

When I look at you, I feel this kind of warm frustration. It pools in my stomach, not altogether unpleasant, but tension-filled. I guess someone more prone to these sorts of human weaknesses would be more used to this feeling but it is entirely new to me. Yes, I have known thoughts of desire before— but none have consumed me so thoroughly, haunted me so deliciously.

Never before have I thought one man could fulfill me in every capacity. But you are everything to me. Intellectually, I find you an enigma. Physically— well, never have I tossed and turned at night with such a vivid ache. There is something between us that wasn't there before, not with any other man. I just want to keep the heat of your gaze on me, at all costs. When you look away from me, it's as if the sun has pulled behind a cloud. When we share a smile, it is so full of promise that something inside me tears. And I like it.

I believe myself to be a deeply analytical and level-headed person. I know you are doing nothing but causing the release of endorphins into my blood stream during a heightened state of arousal. Chemical or not, my veins burn as I sit next to you in Sweets' tiny office.

Your hand rests on your knee, inches from my own leg. As if your extremities are on fire, I can feel the heat on my bare skin. I'm uncomfortably aware that my dress reveals my flushed chest. I'm surprised as easy banter slips from my lips. My cerebral function is entirely impaired and it's your fault.

We get up and saunter out the door, leaving our favorite bumbling psychologist to gape in his room. He is quite capable, I am sure, but I hope he isn't competent enough to know what I'm imagining right now. We make it as far as the parking lot. Your hand rests lightly on my lower back. Generally I would be annoyed and shake you away, reminding you that I don't need your protection. Tonight, however, something rash in me wants to press back against it; I yearn for more contact.

You speak and I get the sense I've been silent for a while. "Bones." Your voice is nearly an octave lower than usual.

"I apologize, what did you say?" Inwardly, I chastise myself. You're taking me out to dinner. The least I could do is pay attention to your words instead of my fantasies. With a slight amount of pressure, you turn me and, reflexively, I align my hips with yours.

Our breath rises, silver and ephemeral in the October night.

You grin, lick your lips, look to the ground. You're suddenly shy. I wonder what chemicals are racing through your blood right now. Reluctantly, your eyes meander back to mine. "Bones, look. I'm sorry I chased off Cliff and Dave—"

"Their names were—" I start.

"Whatever," You cut in. "I just knew neither of them were any good for you. Just because combined they fill the gap in your life doesn't mean either one alone is going to be good enough. I'm just looking out for you. They were both scum."

"Thanks Booth, I appreciate the sentiment but I really don't need you to step into my personal life every time I make a bad decision."

"I'm sorry." You look wounded and I ache to reach up and stroke the worry from your face. I am still hyper-aware of the lingering inches between our torsos. You close the gap first, pulling me unexpectedly into a hug. I think I make some weak, feminine squeal of delight and then we are laughing.

You look down at me, moonlight gilding your slick hair and glinting mischievously in your eyes, and start to speak. The words are lost, however, as I stretch in a simple movement and touch my lips to yours. It's been so long, now, since our awkward new year's encounter. The last analytical thought in my head notes that I still taste sparks on your tongue. And then all coherent thought gives way.

We fall backwards, across the hood of the midnight-colored SUV. Every powerful inch of you is finally pressed against me. I don't feel any relief of that lovely tension, though. If anything, the glow in my abdomen becomes nothing short of painful. Breath shudders out of me when you break away, one palm resting on my quivering stomach. I realize I'm flat on my back and my legs are tangled incriminatingly around yours. "Wow," you say. I nod, biting my lip and hoping you'll bend a little closer so I can show you what I learned from Jake…or Don…or whatever it was.

You shake your head and whatever inhibitions you had disappear. Your mouth is on mine again and I welcome the way you crush me. Part of me hopes to drown in you. With shaking fingers, I clutch the lapels of your jacket. Your warm fingers slip under my dress to touch my thigh. You might as well have scorched me. I don't notice the ice of the metal hood beneath us; I might as well be burning alive.

With all the ferocity and intensity of our ancestors, you tear my panties away, never breaking our kiss. You surge against me, stronger than any wave beating against the cliffs and my moan hums through both of our chests. My legs tighten behind you and my intent is clear. With one last searing kiss on my mouth, you move to my neck, whispering words that send chills through me.

Your warm, strong fingers that I have admired for so long thrum delicately across my breasts. Lightning shoots downward and I gasp, "Please." Needing no more encouragement, I hear a zipper and I feel your length against my thigh. I pull your body against mine; the feral need inside me is unwilling to suffer any more such pleasantries. I grin into your desire-clouded eyes as you gently slide into me, so achingly slowly that I think I will perish from the unbearable wait.

I don't need words as I buck my hips against yours. This will be no gentle moment. The longing inside me will not settle for that. We are suddenly crashing together, lips, hips, legs, hands. My senses are surprisingly sharpened. I'm aware that the wheels of the Tahoe creak protestingly on the pavement. The metal hood groans with us. The canopy of stars above us provides the perfect glimmering background. You place your hands above me on the windshield and really slam into me, hard enough that I close my eyes in pained joy.

From somewhere deep inside me, a shudder spills out. I push with you as we race desperately towards some form of satisfaction. Gasp after gasp we draw closer. I know you are close too because your eyes 

are screwed shut with ecstasy. "Come on, Seeley," I tease. You reach one hand between us and my muscles snap taught. I yell as you burst into me one last time and then we are soaring. I feel as if the world has dropped out beneath us and there is nothing but air—

You collapse on top of me, raining exhausted kisses over my forehead and cupping my cheek with your hand. I smile up at you, unsure of what we are now, but for now it is enough. Your lips part in a satisfied grin as you make an effort to speak. "So, tell me, Bones, could uh, Tim, do that?"

Neither of us notices as Sweets closes the blinds, a knowing smile resting on his lips.


End file.
